Sean Johnson - Intentionally - The Education of Sean Johnson

Last night I had a conversation with a girl.

I told her that I’m trying to stop deriving my energy or my happiness from other people. I told her that I’m trying to derive my happiness from…

She cut me off and said “yourself.”

And I said, “No, from God.”

She didn’t understand. Thought I was strange. And I am.

But I’ve become more and more convinced that God is the only person who can be there for us with the consistency and magnitude we need. Other people let us down. Without fail.

We’re all deeply flawed. Most of us won’t admit it, but it’s something we know. In the deepest places of our hearts, we know that everyone is just like us. Which means that everyone will let us down at some point, because we let ourselves down.

Our happiness won’t come from them, and it won’t come from us.

She didn’t understand why I felt that way. We share a mutual friend, and my reputation for ambition and drive and taking risks might have preceded me. Maybe because she saw me as many people do, as a man powerful in spirit if not in stature, she was surprised when I confessed that I’m not enough.

But it’s true. All the self-help, power of positive thinking, unleashing the power within talk is worthless. Don’t get me wrong - I believe man can and does accomplish tremendous things. But they are still the things of the world, and the world is flawed.

So that leaves me with one answer; the answer which, when thought about at 3 in the morning lying in your bed with no one to put a face on for and no one left to make excuses to, is the only thing that comforts me. God is enough.

What’s more, God probably designed it that way - created us so that He’s all that could be enough.

There’s so much unhappiness in this world. There’s so much pain and remorse and hurt feelings and shattered dreams. Very few of us make it through life’s journey without getting broken, beaten up, and chewed up by the world. Those that do still feel a malaise about their lives - though they have everything and have never been hurt, they still deal with the haunting feeling that it’s all meaningless.

I see these broken people all the time. I met one last night. I’m one.

This is a difficult post to write because it literally makes me cry thinking about it. When I met this girl I immediately had two feelings - an intense desire to get to know her more, and an uncontrollable sadness. I wanted to help her. To try and be there for her where others haven’t.

But I can’t. I couldn’t do it for the girl. Thought I could, and failed. And I know I can’t do it for her either.

But I know who could. And it drives me nuts that I’m too afraid to say it. Too afraid to make people think I’m a “weirdo religious” type who just does what he’s told from some big church.

The truth is that Christ didn’t spend his time with the pious. He didn’t spend his time with those who sat on their high horses and praised themselves for how “godly” they were.

He spent his time with the criminals, the lepers, the prostitutes. He spent his time with the people who were broken. He spent his time with people who, on some level, were exactly like us. And he didn’t do so to reprimand them.

He did so because he loved them. Because he did what his Father did, and loved who his father loved.

We’re told that only those who approach God like a child are going to be able to enter the Kingdom. What has a child done to earn anything? They haven’t diligently tithed. They haven’t gone to Bible study. They probably never pray. But they’re saved not because they love God, but because He loves them.

Yes, he is able to be there for us. He pursues us relentlessly. He looks down at us and accepts us as we are. All he wants us to do is trust in him.

When the Bible was written, the world was not a product of college philosophy classes, of individual spirituality. The question wasn’t whether or not you believed there was a God - everyone believed that. The question was whether you trusted God. That is, whether you believed that what he says is true. Whether you believed that he truly will be there for you with the capacity, consistency and magnitude that we all require. And that it didn’t require any effort on our parts - it only required that we trust him and pursued an open and honest relationship with him.

It’s a tough thing to do - to believe in your heart that there’s this big huge God who still really loves us. It’s hard to believe because he feels so distant. It’s hard to believe because he doesn’t make our lives perfect and easy and hunky-dory. It’s hard to believe because he wants more than anything to pour his love out on us, but wants us to choose to want it. To choose to love him back.

He wants to love us. I’ve become more aware of that in the past few weeks than at any time in my life. And it makes me openly weep. To think that I’ve spent years trying to be happy with people and with myself, constantly dealing with the hurt that comes whenever they let me down, whenever I let myself down.

All I needed was to surrender. Open my heart up to be loved by someone who knows everything about me and loves me anyway. Someone for whom I’m a cherished creation. Someone who gets infinite joy out of my loving him.

I find myself praying more often lately. I find myself no longer trying to transform myself into someone who’s perfect. I’m not perfect, never will be. I’m broken, hurt, and weak.

And I’m loved.

So is that girl I met last night.

So are you.

I’m sorry if that offends you.